Research Papers

I had another article printed in The Republic today.  This one was written on the fly - about how much English teachers enjoy the research paper assignment.  I know firsthand because in two days, my students hand in their final drafts ... and I get to start grading them.  I saw more plagiarism than ever before on the rough drafts, so I am anticipating having to give out at least a couple of zeroes when it is all said and done.  That's the worst part.  That and the hours upon hours of sorting through all those papers.  My rubric is fairly complex, so it takes 20 to 40 minutes per paper for the grading.  It gives me a headache just to think about it....

But here is the article:

                Thirty years ago this coming December, I presented a five page research paper to my 9^th grade English teacher, Miss Shell.  I was particularly proud of my title: “Extinction – A Grave Danger”.  Miss Shell did not smile. 

She never smiled.

Our papers were due just before Christmas break.  That day, after the starting bell rang, Miss Shell briskly swept across the rows of desks in her militaristic manner, snatching up the papers with which we were only too happy to part.  One young man was still frantically shuffling papers into a pocket binder when Miss Shell reached his desk.  She glared at Tim from on high.

Tim’s face and neck glowed red as if ignited by her wrath and, without looking her directly in the eyes (an act which risked turning you to stone), he meekly stammered, “I thought we had until the end of the period.”

“You didn’t,” she replied icily.  She hovered a few more seconds (which seemed to us all an eternity) and, when it became clear his paper was not close to being ready, she announced loudly, “Your paper is late; your grade will suffer,” and marched on towards the next desk.  The rest of us were all glad we weren’t Tim.

Not coincidentally, I believe it was early second semester when certain students (not me) began spitting on the handle of Miss Shell’s classroom door before she would arrive in the morning to unlock.  I didn’t directly participate in the spitting, but I didn’t intervene either.

Nowadays, I would be a bit more sympathetic to poor Miss Shell.  Not only was she a generally unhappy person, but that particular day was the unhappiest day of the year for any English teacher: the day when stacks of papers are presented for grading.  After spending weeks pushing and pulling us through the research process, she was now anticipating a Christmas break bent over piles of amateur research writing.

Here’s the thing most high school students don’t understand:  your English teacher hates the research paper even more than you do. 

You think it’s not possible, but it is. 

I speak from the trenches – my sophomores will be turning in their final drafts in just days. Believe me, spending multiple periods each day for a month instructing about plagiarism, parenthetical notations, and the Works Cited page holds little joy for the average teacher.  Plus, most of these topics are surrounded by a thick fog in the minds of so many students.  These days it’s incredibly hard to even get them to turn down the pirated music on their IPods long enough for you to make a convincing case as to why it’s improper to steal someone else’s ideas or words. 

Nevertheless, in front of my class I have tried to bottle up my own frustrations throughout these trying weeks and have done my best to practice patience with theirs.  After all, I don’t want to spend the rest of the school year checking the doorknob for spit.